


The Old-Fashioned Way

by Anonymous



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Awkwardness, Canon-typical dumbfucks, Dubious use of necromancy for safer sex practices, F/M, First Time, Intent to conceive, Look - neither of them are actually having a good time here, Mentions of Pregnancy, Or Gideon's tbh, Still way less fucked up than Harrow's conception, Wedding Night, dubcon I guess, why the fuck did i write this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For the tlt kink meme prompt:Harrowhark and Silas - Must be aged up / an AU so they are both 18+. Two repressed little fuckers, being butt touched nuns together. They can touch butts, or do other things. Idgaf. Just gimme a taste of them canceling out both their disgust with each other, and their religious traumas.
Relationships: Silas Octakiseron/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anonymous, TLT Kink Meme





	The Old-Fashioned Way

**Author's Note:**

> OP - I don't know if this is what you wanted, but here we go

“You mean to consummate the marriage _physically_?” Silas asked, in horror.

“How else did you expect to come by an heir?” Harrow continued to strip, methodically. With the full ceremonial regalia she'd donned for the wedding, it would take her a while, and she wanted this over and done with.

“As any civilised House would! You send your med tech to me with a sedative to perform the extraction, and then they combine our genetic material in a vat womb.”

“We don't all have your House's resources. Wait.” Harrow looked up from the row of hundreds of tiny bone buttons she'd been unfastening. “The extraction? You don't even do _that_ manually? Have you _ever_ done it manually?” Was Silas' dismay more than just Eighth House fastidiousness? Did he actually not know what he was doing?

This was going to be a hell of a lot more difficult if Harrow had to walk him through it. She knew the theory at least, but had been intending to just spread her legs and let him get on with it. She had a book to read, in case he took a long time, and she got bored, but she was starting to get the inkling that _Pregnancy and You: A Necromancer's Guide_ was going to have to wait.

“Of course I haven't. It would be a sin.”

“Octakiseron” - he wasn't, any more. She would have to adjust to that. Their marriage was unprecedented, but the Emperor himself had stepped in. Marriage to heal the rift between their Houses, and replenish the Ninth. She'd been objecting for years. Her – _yuck_ – her husband had likely been doing the same. But she was twenty-five now, and her parents had forced her hand; her childbearing years would not last forever - _“Silas_. You are married now. The sooner you do your duty and get me with child, the sooner we can go our separate ways. Really, your part in the affair is mercifully brief; I'm the one who has to carry the damn thing for nine whole months.”

“Very well.” Silas said, archly. “You may proceed.”

And he stood there. The bastard just stood there, waiting.

“Excuse me?”

“Carry on.” Silas said. “And hurry up. I don't want to be at it all night.”

“Carry on with what?”

“The... insemination. Whatever it is you do. I presume a daughter of the Ninth would know the procedure.”

“Why the hell would you presume that?”

“Everyone knows the Ninth are debauched and lascivious.”

“Silas – I was raised by a bunch of geriatric nuns. You are only the third individual within twenty years of my age that I have ever _met_ ; the other two being my cavalier and an obnoxious half-wit of a swordswoman who left for the Cohort years ago.”

“So... you don't know what to do?”

“No.”

“Me either.”

***

Harrow had books. Two. Well, one-and-a-half. The first was a technical manual regarding the biological processes. The second was a magazine Gideon had left behind when she'd gone to join the Cohort. Together the newlyweds puzzled it over.

“We could try kissing?” Silas suggested at last.

Harrow didn't like the idea. Putting someone else's mouth on her mouth seemed vaguely unsanitary, but frankly the whole process of copulation only appeared to get more unsanitary from there. For the first time, Harrow was glad that her husband was from the Eighth. He probably gargled bleach after every meal.

They stood facing each other and leaned in. Their first attempt was less than successful; they took a moment to rub their bruised noses, and then tried again. This time they at least managed to touch lips; they stood there, each newly discovering the difficulty of having one's face quite so close to a person they had absolutely no intention of making eye contact with. It did not occur to either of them to close their eyes in the presence of a rival necromancer from a hated House.

Harrow counted out the seconds in her head. How long was a kiss supposed to last for? She got to _sixty_ and decided that a minute must surely be sufficient, and pulled away.

“Well. There we go. Cross that one off the list. Do we have a list? We should make a list.” Harrow babbled, and then cut herself off. She didn't want Silas to know how flustered she was.

They made a list, and worked through it methodically. Let it never be said that either the Eighth or Ninth Houses would shirk a task, no matter how distasteful.

𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔

𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 (𝓌/ 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒)

𝑅𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔

B̷r̷e̷a̷s̷t̷s̷?̷

This last had been removed from the list when they discovered that neither of them had the faintest clue what to actually do with Harrow's breasts, and a closer consultation of the technical manual indicated that they were not a crucial part of conception, and really only came into things once the child had been born. Their other reference text – _Dominicus Delights III: Busty Babes of Callisto_ – had rather overplayed their importance.

𝒜𝒸𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁

𝒫𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓈: 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

𝒫𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓈: 𝑒𝒿𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

It was on _Achieve arousal_ that they hit a stumbling block. Despite their truly sterling and selfless work on _Kissing, varieties of,_ and their perfectly adequate nudity, they each remained physically unmoved. They consulted the book again, but on the subject of arousal, discovered only some unhelpfully vague waffle, the upshot of which had been that it varied entirely from individual to individual, and personal experimentation would be required.

“Well fuck.” Harrow put it, succinctly.

“That is rather the idea.” Silas remarked.

“Did you just – make a _joke_?”

Harrow hadn't been accosted by such verbal frivolity since Gideon had left. Her mind drifted back to the red-headed reprobate, and her endless display of that disgusting hypertrophic musculature. As if she imagined a bone adept would be interested in _muscles._

Still, somehow, the thought of Gideon, naked and rippling with muscle, a fine sheen of sweat on her bare skin, prompted a response in Harrow. She didn't know if it was the desired response, but it was in more or less the correct region, so she judged it worth a try.

“What if you, uh, show off a bit.” Harrow suggested.

“Show off?”

“Uh... you know. Flex.”

To his credit, Silas attempted it. Unfortunately, the sight of his bones standing starkly out beneath his bone-pale skin, with only the barest hint of flesh between the two, didn't appear to help matters. In fact, whatever it was Harrow had felt dissipated rapidly at the sight.

“Forget it,” she said. “It's not working. Do you have any ideas?”

“My – buttocks?” Silas suggested.

“What about them?”

“I'm not sure, but it's on the list of forbidden activities in the Tome, so it's worth a try?”

Well, at least if she was behind him she wouldn't have to look at his face, where his blushing was visible even through the sacramental paint he'd donned for the ceremony.

She stepped around behind him and put her hands to the flat plane of his underdeveloped gluteus muscles. They clenched, instantly, beneath her touch, and Silas let out a hiss, as though she'd burned him. She immediately withdrew.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

“No. That was good, I think. Do it again?”

Harrow had dispassionately massaged the sparse flesh of Silas' ass for almost twenty minutes when he said: “I think I've got it.”

She stole a glance, and discovered that he had, indeed, achieved a modicum of tumescence. They rushed to the bed, and attempted work his penis inside of her, but her anatomy was not accommodating, and the progress they'd made wilted away to nothing before insertion could be managed.

They tried again. And again. Harrow's wrists began to ache from the fondling.

“You could try, um, between?” Silas suggested, at last, his voice small, and hesitant.

“Between what?”

“Between the buttocks?”

This, at least, Harrow had an inkling what to do with. One of the articles in _Busty Babes_ had listed anal penetration in an article titled _Nine ways to drive him wild._ Perhaps Harrow should have paid more attention to the magazine after all.

She stepped away to her dresser, returning with one of the single-use fortified human skin gloves that she kept for de-fleshing the skeletons of her penitents when they died, and the bottle of oil she used to remove her paint each night. Thus prepared, she steeled herself, reminded herself that a necromancer had no business being squeamish about the human body, and got to work.

Her efforts paid off some minutes – and three fingers – later. Silas let out a muffled grunt, and pulled away from her. She stripped the glove from her hand, dropping it in the bin, and together they examined their prize. In his cupped hands lay a scant few teaspoonsful of semen.

“Alright,” she said. “Now how do we get that inside me?”


End file.
